


Nightmares

by Jsle3



Category: Guild Wars 2
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guild Wars 2 - Freeform, Implied Violence, Semi-Graphic Injuries, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21767080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsle3/pseuds/Jsle3
Summary: A continuation of “Voices”, where I focus on the mental impact this recent episode has had on Cynoria.
Kudos: 3





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Semi-Graphic Injuries! Not too horrible but might make people squeamish. Mention of trauma and traumatic events. Read at your own risk. 
> 
> Fehrin Hoarfrost does NOT belong to me.

It had been a week since her incident. The nights have gotten colder, the days have gotten hectic, and more vigil soldiers have gone missing. Cynoria itched to go back into battle and track those missing patrol groups. However, Klarn has her chained down to the Keep and wont let her leave until she is deemed mentally stable enough to go out. No matter how much she insisted that she was fine, her restless nights proved her otherwise. She had almost  _ killed _ a vigil soldier who rushed to check on her. 

Cynoria gripped the railing on the keep’s walls, shaking her head at the memory. It wasn’t  _ her  _ fault the soldier came in unannounced and scared the obviously-anxious sylvari. The poor guy should have knocked. She sighed, leaning onto the stone railing as she watched the patrols begin their trek. She also watched a Savir get whacked in the head with a mace. It was incredibly amusing. 

_“_ Cynoria!”  A voice called from the lodge nearby. She turned around to see Fehrin, who beckoned her to come inside. She happily obliged, making her way down the stairs and into the lodge. 

_“_ Everything ok Fehrin?” Cynoria quickly closed the large doors behind her, keeping the warmth from the fireplace from escaping. 

“Of course. The vigil medics are completely swamped with injured soldiers, so they asked me to deliver these to you. I thought it best to give it to you inside.” Fehrin slid a box of medical supplies her way. She quickly glanced over the contents and nodded sadly, unwrapping the bandages on her right arm and sitting at the nearest table.

Ah, thanks. I’ll admit that I was hoping to finally be able to go out on a field mission.” Cynoria let her hand breathe, cleaning the healing skin and adding the medicine. 

“With your hand still healing from the frostbite, I don’t think you’ll be doing any fighting for a bit.” Fehrin frowned, taking a seat in front of her while she worked. 

Cynoria stretched and wiggled her fingers, the chipped bark stinging with every movement. She winced and immediately stopped, huffing in defeat as sap began to bud around some of the wounds. 

“I don’t think constantly trying to move your fingers will help either, you’re just reopening the wounds.” Fehrin took a cloth from his bag and dabbed at the wounds, Cynoria hissing in pain at the contact. 

“I know I know. It’s just...hard not to I guess. I’m just anxious to get back out there.” Cynoria carefully began to bandage her arm once more, taking great care not to make the wrapping too tight. 

“I know you do. You always know I have your back.” 

“You don’t have to keep reminding me. You’ve been with me ever since you were a sapling.” Cynoria sat back in her chair, crossing her arms as she leaned back. “Those were different times then.” 

Fehrin chuckled, nodding his head. “Most definitely. Things seemed a lot less hectic then.” 

“Seemed. You’ve got that part right.” 

Fehrin tilted his head, sensing a bit of bitterness in her voice, “What makes you feel that way?”. 

Cynoria winced at the question, nervously avoiding eye contact as she ran her fingers over the right side of her neck. “There are just some... _ things  _ I can never forget. A lot of trauma, you know?” 

Fehrin leaned forward, concern in his eyes. “Cynoria. Is there something we need to talk about?” 

There was a long and empty pause. A silent standoff as they looked at one another. The only sound heard was the crackling of the fireplace and Dahlia peacefully snoring in front of it. Cynoria finally broke, leaning her head back and sighing shakily. 

“I’ve been having...nightmares again. Nightmares from my years as a sapling. Jormag seems to know exactly what buttons to push.” Cynoria admitted, letting her hand resting on her neck move the fur of her cape out of the way to show a faded scar. It was a clean cut, as if cut from a piece of medical equipment. 

Fehrin observed the scar, concern and fear washing over his face. “Where did that-“

“Inquest. A very long time ago.” She carefully moved the fur back into its place, her hand dropping onto the table where it drummed nervously. “Now only you and Canach know. It’s a story I don’t like talking about.”

There was an awkward bit of silence before Fehrin spoke up again. “I-I’m sorry you went through that. Is that why you have a hard time trusting asura…?” 

Cynoria nodded, looking at the fireplace. “That was the first impression I ever had on their race. Of course things have changed over time but it’s still so hard to forget.” 

Cynoria caught herself before her voice could waver. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, hiding the small bit of vulnerability that was there. She rose from her chair, packing the medical supplies back into the box.

“Thank you for bringing me the supplies Fehrin. I hope your future patrols go well.” She quickly turned to leave the lodge but a firm hand grabbed her shoulder. She froze, her shoulders tensing as she slowly turned to Fehrin.

“Cyn, you don’t have to hide your vulnerability from me. You know I’m here for you.” Fehrin let his hand drop as she looked down. 

“In time I’ll tell the full story. I’m just not ready yet.” She opened the lodge doors and went back into the frigid outdoors, going back to her post on the wall. 

**_Fighting so hard…_ **

**_Give in..._ **


End file.
